


Call It What You Want

by allantwitty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Retail, Black Friday, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Retail Worker Castiel, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Waiter Dean, cas works in bath and body works, dean struggles under john's toxic masculinity, so much pining, takes place throughout the holiday season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 07:11:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12676953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allantwitty/pseuds/allantwitty
Summary: Dean meets Cas on Black Friday, the only person he sees in a crowd of thousands. But Cas works in a chick store. Dean minds a little, until he doesn't mind at all.





	Call It What You Want

**Author's Note:**

> title from the Taylor Swift song.
> 
> i've been working on this for a good month now so i really hope you enjoy it.
> 
> this fic wouldn't exist without my friend Sophie's help, who provided quick beta-ing of countless drafts and most of the genius reasons Dean keeps returning to Cas's store. thank you and i love you.
> 
> also i don't work at bath and body works but i've been there many times and i interviewed there twice but if anything is wrong i do apologize.
> 
> thanks for reading!

                “No way. Abso-fucking-lutely not.”

                Charlie rolls her eyes and throws a piece of popcorn at Dean, which he catches in his mouth triumphantly. Pumpkin pie and buttered popcorn don’t really mix, though, which he realizes at once.

                “Dean, the sales on Black Friday are in _sane_. I mean, obviously, because that’s the point, but you’d honestly be surprised at how much you can save on stuff.”

                “You sound like one of those annoying commercials that they start playing in September,” he says through another bite of pie.

                She makes a grand gesture with her arms as she says in a deep, affected voice, “Come on down to the Hollingsworth Green Mall tomorrow, _Black Friday_ , and save on all your favorites! Get 80% off on a flat screen TV! Get an iPhone X for $100! Get –”

                He chuckles as he cuts her off. “You’re totally making those up.”

                “ _Please_ , Dean? I don’t want to go by myself. I’d get jumped by a crazy soccer mom trying to get the last Kitchen Aid before I even got to hit Hot Topic.”

                “Don’t talk about that. And you’d deserve it for even _thinking_ about shopping at Hot Topic.”

                “I make no apologies for never outgrowing my scene phase.”

                “I don’t even want anything,” Dean argues, even though he knows it to be fruitless with Charlie. He scrapes some whipped cream off his plate and licks it off his fork. “And even if I said yes, we’d still have to drive through all the traffic to get to the mall, and then find a parking spot, and then walk through the crowded, stuffy stores, and then wait in lines, and all for what?”

                “To save money, dingus,” she insists, kicking at his arm with her socked foot. “Look, if you come with me, I’ll make you another pumpkin pie. Since _someone_ ate like three quarters of the one I made today.”

                And that’s how Dean finds himself standing in the mall the next morning, packed in like sardines around all the people trying to buy pointless shit that they don’t even need. All for pie.

                Charlie’s already bought the Boy Meets World box set, a new set of knives for her kitchen, an electric hand whisk, and at least ten plaid shirts.

                Dean’s bought nothing.

                “Dean, if you don’t buy something I’m gonna be pissed,” she warns him. Her face suddenly lights up and she says, “Oh, there’s Bath and Body Works! Let’s go there, their sales are always _epic_.”

                “Who still says ‘epic’?” Dean asks himself as he follows her.

                This is definitely the most packed store they’ve been in yet. Dean can barely walk anywhere without bumping into someone, and the line is literally out the door. No way in hell is he getting anything from here. Well, not that he would _anyway_ , because this is a store for women, and he’s never even used any of their stuff before, but… yeah. Whatever.

                Charlie leaves him standing alone in a corner near the front of the store, and he resigns himself to checking his phone while he waits for her.

                “Can I help you find something?”

                Dean’s about to look up, to tell the poor sales associate forced to work on this hellish nightmare of a holiday that he’s not looking for anything, but when he does, he kind of loses the ability to function for a second.

                Because… whoa.

                “I – I’m not – I’m not really looking for anything,” he hears himself say to blue eyes, dark hair, and faint stubble. “Just here with a friend.”

                The guy – Cas, according to his nametag – smiles, and Dean is already gone. “Did you get forced into being the Black Friday designated driver?”

                Dean chuckles and looks down at the floor, feeling unmistakably _shy_. “Yeah, pretty much. Did you get forced into being the Black Friday soul keeper?”

                Cas laughs, his face lighting up. “Yes, completely. They told me I wouldn’t be hired unless I was available Thanksgiving night and the entirety of Black Friday. I think I have to work Christmas Eve too.”

                “That sounds illegal.”

                “It hasn’t been that bad,” Cas says, shrugging, another small smile directed at Dean. “Most people are too frazzled to ask me for help looking for something, so I’ve just been stocking and standing around watching this… pandemonium, occasionally telling people that no, the candles are _not_ buy three, get three free; only the body care is.” He laughs, and the sight is so charming, so enchanting, that Dean does too. “We actually do have a buy three, get three free event for candles, but it’s in October. So when I have to tell them they missed it, I kind of fear for my life a little bit.”

                Dean lets out a genuine chuckle, biting down on his lower lip to hold it in.

                “I’m on register duty after lunch,” Cas continues, “and I’m a little overwhelmed just thinking about it. I have to ask everyone for their emails when I ring them up and everyone _hates_ that part – cashier and customer both.”

                “Well good luck with that,” Dean says sincerely, looking over the line to the right of him.

                Cas looks down at Dean’s hands, his empty hands, and Dean hears him hum in consideration. “Not buying anything today? I hear there’s a big sale on Kitchen Aids at Macy’s. Everyone’s trying to get one.”

                “Not _me_ ,” Dean groans. “You think I’m looking to get _beaten_ with one of those things? By a soccer mom who’s been up for 48 hours straight clipping coupons and is convinced I stole her purse? Her purse which is, of course, over her shoulder the whole time. No thanks.”

                Cas narrows his eyes, looking amused. “That was way too specific to be hypothetical.”

                “I have a scar.”

                Cas blinks before a short laugh is punched out of him. “Oh my God.”

                “What about you? I’m sure you’ve got a couple horror stories,” Dean says. “Working retail during the holidays would do that to you.” It occurs to Dean then that he’s having a full-fledged conversation with Cas right in the middle of the aforementioned pandemonium, and neither of them seem to care.

                “Hmm,” Cas says, looking to the ceiling as he thinks, and Dean uses the opportunity to catalogue all of his features – his bright, bright eyes, his full, pink lips, his disheveled hair, his strong jawline. “Well, I used to work at –”

                “Okay, I’m just gonna order some stuff online,” he hears Charlie say as she walks up beside him. “No way am I gonna stand in that line. Let’s go.” She loops her arm through Dean’s and starts walking them toward the door. It’s all really sudden and quick, and Dean’s face falls. She doesn’t hear the small ‘wait’ he gets out.

                He cranes his neck behind them to look at the corner where they just were, and Cas is watching them walk away, looking disappointed.

                They lock eyes and Dean lifts his free hand in a wave, feeling dumb, but Cas’s eyes seem to brighten a bit as he waves back, a small gesture that makes Dean’s whole day.

                “Fuck you, Charlie,” he grumbles as they make their way to the Macy’s exit they parked at. “I was busy back there.”

                She frowns at him. “You were just talking to a sales guy. Probably harassing him about the crowds today, as if it’s _his_ , the retail worker’s fault.”

                “Okay, A) when would I _ever_? And 2) he wasn’t just a sales guy.” He sighs though, uncertain now that he thinks about it. “We were, like, clicking. I don’t know.”

                “Oh,” she says, wincing slightly. “Oops. You wanna go back?”

                The idea is tempting, but Cas is busy. They probably weren’t even ‘clicking’. They were just talking. It wasn’t a big deal.

                “No,” he mutters. “Forget it.”

                ***

                So as it turns out, the electric hand whisk that Charlie bought for $9.99 is surprisingly defective. Who would have guessed. (Dean. Dean guessed.)

                But when he makes quick work of volunteering to take it back to the mall the week following Black Friday, Charlie is predictably suspicious.

                “You hate the mall,” she says with narrowed eyes.

                “No, I don’t.”

                “Yes, you do. I had to bribe you with pie to get you to come with me last Friday.”

                “Just – it’s – it’s nothing. I just feel like getting out.”

                She’s still squinting at him, but eventually she shrugs and turns back to the TV. “Have fun,” she says. “Don’t kill any sales associates.”

                ***

                After Dean returns the whisk – for store credit only – he makes his way over to Bath and Body Works, his heart pounding and a slight, strange spring in his step.

                When he walks in, he immediately sees Cas near the back of the store, leaning against a display table with his hands in the pockets of his apron.

                God, he’s even more beautiful than Dean remembered.

                His hair is still an artful mess. His body is still long and lithe. His _face_ is still –

                “Hi there,” a voice says from his left. A different voice, not the deep, gravelly one he heard last Friday. Dean tears his eyes away from Cas and looks at the shorter girl standing in front of him. “Can I help you find something?” Her nametag says Kelly.

                “Uh,” Dean says distractedly, gaze shifting back behind her to the guy that’s been starring in Dean’s dreams for the past week. “No, I’m just looking.”

                “No problem. Just let me know if you need anything.”

                “Yeah,” he says, already walking away. He’ll feel bad for being rude later.

                When he’s about two feet away from him, Cas turns his head, no doubt sensing someone approaching him. Dean doesn’t think he’s imagining the way that Cas’s eyes light up when he recognizes Dean.

                “You’re back,” Cas says, getting out of his slouch and meeting Dean in the middle.

                “Yeah, hey Cas,” Dean replies, rubbing his neck. He only realizes he said his name _after_ it comes out. He probably sounds like a stalker.

                Cas’s face shifts slightly – like he’s caught off guard, but pleased. “I never caught your name.”

                “Oh, right. I’m – I’m Dean.”

                “Dean,” he echoes. “What brings you back?”

                Oh. Dean probably needs a reason as to why he’s here that isn’t just _I wanted to see you_. He slides the ring on his finger around absentmindedly and says the first thing that comes to mind.

                “My brother. Uh, Sam. He – he just got… a new… dog. So I thought I’d get him something to celebrate… that.”

                Cas seems to hold in a smirk. He probably sees right through Dean.

                “I’m not really sure what kind of product would be best for that,” Cas says honestly. “Maybe a candle? So he can, uh, relax with his dog and enjoy the scent in the air?”

                Dean bites his lip to hold back a smile himself. “Yeah, that – that sounds perfect.”

                “Okay,” Cas chuckles. They walk over to one of the tables holding candles and Dean starts picking them up one by one and giving them a sniff.

                “So how was register duty?” Dean asks him. “On Black Friday.”

                “Oh,” Cas groans, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I don’t even want to talk about it.”

                Dean winces. “That bad?”

                “Someone threw a candle at me.”

                “ _What_?” Dean blurts, suddenly feeling protective over this guy he barely knows. “Those things are huge!”

                “She was one of those people who thought the buy three get three free applied to the candles as well, and I had to tell her we only offer that once, in October. She said it should be advertised clearer and I _told_ her, that it’s written right on the signs – it only applies to the body care right now. And then she chose to use a candle as a projectile.”

                “Shit,” Dean mutters, shaking his head, giving a peppermint candle a sniff. It’s good – sweet, but really soft. He’d buy it for himself if it didn’t mean his dad would murder him. “She got arrested, right?”

                “I didn’t press charges. It just hit my shoulder so I didn’t really care. I laughed about it by the end of the day.”

                “Hm,” Dean hums, in slight agreement. He still doesn’t like the idea of Cas getting hurt.

                “It probably wasn’t as bad as getting beaten with a Kitchen Aid,” Cas says, looking pleased with himself, like he’s proud that he made a joke. God, he’s adorable.

                Dean gives him a look, hiding his crush behind a mask. “Trauma is trauma,” he quips.

                Cas chuckles and picks up a couple candles himself, smelling them with a small smile on his face.

                “Which one’s your favorite?” Dean asks.

                “Peppermint,” he says without hesitation, and _oh_. Dean’s eyes shine like the sun. He huffs out a soft laugh that makes Cas look at him inquisitively.

                “Mine too,” Dean says.

                “Why don’t you get it?”

                Dean’s got a refusal on the tip of his tongue, just about to turn him down, but then he sees the earnestness in the blue of Cas’s bright eyes, the sweep of a smile on his plush lips, and Dean is a ready and willing victim.

                “Okay.”

                Dean stares at Cas’s hands as he rings him up, and only looks up at his face once he speaks. He’s hit again with the immensity of how beautiful Cas is when he does.

                “Can I have your email address?”

                Dean’s about to crack a joke, like _okay Meg Ryan, didn’t realize we were in 1998, but I like your style_ , but after processing it for a second longer, he realizes why exactly Cas is asking and he’s thanking the Lord above that he didn’t say something stupid like that.

                “Yeah, I don’t think I need emails about the… sales and stuff.”

                “Okay. Your choice. Just remember us if your brother gets another dog.”

                “Don’t worry, Cas, I’ll remember you,” Dean says, before he can even _think_ and holy shit did he really just say that?

                Cas presses his lips together, his cheeks vaguely pink. “Have a nice day, Dean.”

                “Yeah, you, uh. You too,” he mutters, and he turns tail and is out the door in seconds.

                ***

                When Dean walks into Bath and Body Works a week before Christmas, the store is unsurprisingly overflowing with people. Dean weaves his way through the crowd before nestling himself in a back corner, pretending he’s inspecting the hand soaps in front of him.

                “Back again?” a familiar voice asks from behind him.

                Dean turns around, and he’s not certain, but he’s pretty sure Cas looks happy to see him. “I can’t stay away.”

                “What are you looking for today, Dean?” he asks with a smile.

                “Um. You don’t have to – I know you’re busy. You can help someone else.”

                “I want to help you,” Cas says simply, like there’s no other answer. The butterflies in Dean’s stomach fly up to his throat.

                “Well, I, uh. I saw this woman, you see. And she was playing guitar outside the Starbucks down the street.”

                “Mmhmm,” Cas says, brow furrowed, listening intently. Dean almost fumbles under his undivided attention.

                “And it’s winter, you know.”

                “Right.”

                “So I thought her hands might be dry.”

                “Okay…”

                “So I was thinking I’d buy her some hand cream.”

                Cas pauses, his lips parting as he processes this. “The woman playing guitar?”

                “Yeah.”

                He blinks and slowly nods his head. “That’s very kind of you.”

                “Well, you know. Season of giving and all that.”

                “Of course,” Cas says. He gestures for Dean to follow him to the back of the store, and his hand sweeps over a rack of smaller tubes of lotion and little things of hand sanitizer. “Here you are.”

                “Awesome,” Dean murmurs. He gives Cas a sidelong look, trying to think of any way whatsoever to prolong his time with him. “What scent do you think she would like?”

                “Hmm,” he hums thoughtfully. “Probably not a seasonal one, given that the holidays are just about over. So maybe something sweet, but subtle.”

                “Yeah. Maybe… this one?” Dean holds up a green tea scented bottle of hand cream, and Cas nods. Dean only picked it because he saw it first.

                “That’s a great idea,” Cas says.

                “Okay. Well. That was quick,” Dean mutters under his breath.

                “Were you interested in buying anything else?” Cas asks, because Dean’s voice carries.

                “Uh. No, I – I’ll just check out.”

                Cas nods and they hold eye contact for a beat longer than necessary.

                “Well I probably won’t be back before Christmas,” Dean says, just after Cas has packed the singular purchase into a bag. He had to wait in line for fucking fifteen minutes. “So I hope you have a good one. If you celebrate it, that is.”

                “Thank you, Dean. I hope the same for you.”

***

                Dean’s back at the store a week after Christmas. Shamelessly.

                Cas’s eyes catch on his after a minute, and Dean has to press his lips together to hold in his laughter at the expression on his face. Because he’s currently rubbing lotion on an elderly woman’s hands, and she’s got her eyes closed and her head tilted back, seemingly very pleased. Dean raises his eyebrows like he’s impressed and gives Cas a thumbs up behind the woman’s back.

                “How does that feel, ma’am?” he hears him ask her, the picture of politeness.

                “Mmm,” she hums. “It feels good.” And Dean can’t hold it together at that; a laugh sputters out of his mouth, loud. Cas glowers at him over her shoulder.

                “Are you ready to be rung up?” Cas asks her, tearing his eyes away from Dean.

                “I think I’d like you to show me another lotion,” she says. “I wouldn’t mind another one of those massages. You have _beautiful_ hands.”

                Dean laughs. Again. And a startled and uncomfortable laugh bubbles out of Cas as well.

                “Well, um, ma’am, all of the lotions tend to work about the same. They would all, of course, have the same effect on the skin as this one. So I don’t think we need to…”

                She makes a noise of disappointment as she agrees to check out, and Dean chuckles to himself the whole time she’s paying.

                “You’re back _again_?” a different voice says, one Dean’s unfamiliar with. He turns around and a girl with dark, curly hair and a wicked glint in her eyes is staring at him. Meg, her nametag says.

                “Huh?”

                “Hey, I get it. Clarence is all manner of hot,” she drawls. “Completely out of your league though. I mean, you’re pretty and all, but he’s…”

                Dean snorts. “Let me guess, he turned you down and now you’re bitter and jealous of anyone he even looks at?”

                She narrows her eyes at him, looking murderous, before it suddenly clears, like she remembers she’s on the clock. “Hey, go for it, my dude. Just don’t come crying to me when he does the same to you.”

                “Yeah, no worries about that, _Meg_.”

                Dean walks away from her and explores a different corner of the store. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, because it’s not like he’s going to buy anything, and he thinks he’s used up his ridiculous excuses.

                “Can I help you with something?” the only voice Dean wanted to hear asks from behind him, after a few minutes of smelling lotions and getting a headache.

                “Yeah,” Dean says, turning his head to take a quick glance at him, then turning back around to pick up a bottle. “Tell me why this lotion is called ‘A Thousand Wishes’.”

                “I’m sorry?”

                “I mean, that tells you absolutely nothing about what it smells like.”

                “It smells like champagne, peonies, and almond,” Cas tells him dryly, and Dean’s momentarily impressed with his memory.

                “But what does any of that have to do with wishes? A thousand of them?”

                “I… can honestly say I don’t know.”

                Dean chuckles and puts the bottle back. That leaves him with nothing to fill the silence between them with, and their eyes meet for a moment before Dean awkwardly looks down at his feet.

                “So what are you looking for today, Dean?” Cas asks.

                _You?_ his helpful mind supplies.

                “Well, uh… well, you see, my friend Charlie uses this shit from the drugstore,” he says instead. “This soap that’s probably meant for cars or something. And I hate the smell of it. So I thought I’d get her something new.”

                Cas smiles softly and it kicks Dean in the stomach. “Okay, well almost everything is on clearance, so –”

                “Where are the Cucumber Melon products?” a woman asks in her best ‘ _I want to speak to the manager_ ’ voice, standing behind Cas, and they both look to her at the same time.

                “I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m with a customer right now,” Cas says, and Dean has to bite his lip to hold back his smile. “Would you mind asking one of my co-workers for help?”

                “You’re standing right here,” she says impatiently. She’s wearing sunglasses. Inside. “I just want to know where the Cucumber Melon products are.”

                “Cucumber Melon?” Cas repeats, and she huffs out an annoyed ‘yes’. “I’m sorry, we only carry that scent online.”

                She narrows her eyes at him, her perfectly highlighted and styled hair swishing as she tilts her head. “I know I’ve bought Cucumber Melon products in this store before. You must be new.”

                Dean sees Cas take in a shallow breath. “I’ve worked here for over three months, and I can assure you the company only sells Cucumber Melon products online now.”

                She sighs irritably as she looks around the store, no doubt for someone else who works here. “You clearly don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, loud enough for Cas to hear her. Dean wants to say something, but knowing him, he’d probably end up getting Cas fired or something if he did.

                Cas looks over his shoulder to Dean briefly, and he looks vaguely embarrassed. “I promise you, ma’am,” he says politely, turning back around, (dude’s got the patience of a saint – definitely made for retail), “the products are all available online, and all of our sales in the store apply online as well.”

                “I don’t _want_ to order them online. How many different ways can I say that? I know they’re sold here, all I want to know is _where_.”

                “I’m sorry,” he says helplessly. “We simply do not sell that scent in this store.”

                She looks at him for a beat before walking away without a word, just a dismissive scoff.

                “Damn,” Dean says under his breath. “Sorry. I would’ve told her to fuck off for you, but I didn’t want to get you fired.”

                Cas huffs and brushes a piece of hair off his forehead. “That’s alright. That’s just retail for you. Seasonal retail, at that.”

                “I get it. I’m in the food service industry – well, I’m a waiter – and I’ve had my fair share of characters, that’s for sure. Like, it’s my fault they ordered a lobster salad when they don’t like lobster.”

                Cas chuckles and hums in agreement. “Sorry, what were you looking for?”

                “Just something for my friend Charlie. Because the shit she uses smells like grass.”

                Cas narrows his eyes as he walks Dean around the store, to a table filled with clearance-marked items. “A lot of people enjoy notes of grass in their body care. It’s refreshing and… earthy.”

                Dean blinks. “Right. Well I’m going to force her to use something that actually smells like it’s meant for human beings, not a wild animal.”

                “I don’t think wild animals use body care, Dean.”

                “Uh, hairless cats? You definitely put lotion on hairless cats.”

                “Not scented lotion!” Cas says, aghast. “Maybe, like, sun block, but not _these_ products. And hairless cats are not wild animals.”

                “Aw. And here I was about to buy Abilify a Cucumber Melon gift set.”

                “You have a cat named… Abilify?”

                “It’s Charlie’s. She said it’d make the fact that she has to take Abilify easier to deal with. Or something like that. She usually calls it Abby though.”

                Cas nods. “I guess I understand that. Well,” he gestures to the boxes in front of them. “Find something in one of these, they’re all on sale.”

                “Excuse me,” Dean hears a familiar voice demand from behind them. They both turn around simultaneously and Cucumber Melon Lady is standing there, sunglasses still on indoors, two things in her left hand while her right sits on her hip.

                “Um, yes?” Cas asks warily.

                “I just thought you’d like to see what I found,” she says, utterly condescending. She holds up her two items then, and Dean sees that one is a Cucumber Melon scented hand sanitizer and the other a hand cream.

                Dean frowns at her, then looks to Cas and Cas flicks his eyes over briefly.

                “I apologize, I wasn’t aware those were sold here. I assumed that since the shower gel and body lotion are sold online, that the entire range was too.”

                “You assumed,” she scoffs, pushing her sunglasses up through her hair. “If you’re going to do a job, do it _right_. Don’t make assumptions, and don’t make excuses.”

                God, but Dean wants to tell her off. Cas does his job fine – he knows the products inside and out, and he’s attentive as hell, making Dean feel like he actually _cares_ if Dean has a good experience in the store. He’s the perfect employee.

                So this woman can seriously fuck off.

                “I’m very sorry, ma’am,” Cas says sincerely.

                “Don’t be sorry. Be better.”

_Did she just quote Key and Peele?_

                “Yes, I – I’ll be better.”

                She walks away with a shake of her head, pushing her stroller along, and Dean just feels sorry for the poor kid being raised by her.

                “Can I _please_ go do something, like – like take her stupid sunglasses off her face and throw them on the ground and step on them a few hundred times?”

                “Don’t worry about it, Dean,” Cas chuckles, brushing a piece of hair off his forehead, completely distracting Dean. “That was surprisingly tame for retail in January.”

                “You’ve had people _worse_ than her?”

                “Well there was the candle incident, of course. And… others.”

                Dean shuffles his feet and bites his lip absentmindedly. “I’d love to hear about those sometime,” he murmurs.

                A soft smile crosses Cas’s face. He looks tired, like he’s at the end of a long day, but there’s joy in his eyes that’s unmistakable. “Definitely.”

                “Hey, Cas?” Dean asks uncertainly, running his fingers over a bottle of ‘fragrance mist’.

                “Yeah?” he replies, sounding slightly caught off guard. Maybe at the casual use of his name, Dean doesn’t know.

                “Do you, uh, shop here?”

                Cas blinks at him, appearing somewhat confused, before his brow straightens, like he hears what Dean’s not actually saying out loud. He nods. “I do.”

                “Do you have a favorite or something?” he asks quietly.

                Cas hums in consideration as Dean picks up a bottle of lotion to sniff it. It’s called Marshmallow Pumpkin Latte; it smells amazing, and Dean would never be caught dead buying it.

                “I like this one called Twilight Woods. It’s very… well, woodsy.”

                “So it’s kinda, like, unisex then?”

                “Yes, Dean. But we also sell scents designed specifically for men, if you’d be inclined to try them out,” Cas says gently. “But I assure you, if you’d like to try one of the –”

                “No.”

                “You’ve been staring at that lotion ever since you smelled it, Dean.”

                “Cas,” he says. “My dad would murder me if he knew I was using a lotion called Marshmallow Pumpkin Latte. Or if he knew I was even using lotion in the first place.”

                Cas purses his lips, frowning, as he seems to process that. “If you’re not comfortable using lotion, you could try the body wash in this scent. Would your father have a problem with you washing your body?”

                “With something with the word _marshmallow_ in the name? Probably.”

                “It’s your body, Dean.”

                Dean inexplicably flushes, because Cas is talking about his damn _body_ and Dean is apparently still in middle school. “I – I don’t know.”

                “I can show you how it works on the skin, if you’d like,” Cas says. “To give you an idea of what it would be like.”

                “What do you mean?”

                “Part of our job,” he says, not meeting Dean’s eyes, “is to demo the products on your hands to show you how they work.”

                “Right,” Dean says, his voice oddly hoarse. “I always have had trouble figuring out how to use soap.”

                Cas smiles in amusement, but he doesn’t say anything. He picks up the tester bottle and walks them over to the sink in the middle of the store. Dean gets his hands wet, and Cas squeezes a little product onto his fingers and gestures for Dean to lift his hands. Dean does, and then he kind of loses feeling below his waist.

                Because now Cas has got his big, warm hands all over Dean’s, rubbing the product in, and Dean is barely breathing. He looks up at the same time Cas does, and their eyes stay locked as he finishes.

                “How does that feel?” Cas asks, voice quiet.

                “It feels – it feels good,” Dean stammers, their soapy hands just hanging together in midair.

                “You think you can get yourself to use it?”

                Dean forces himself to drop his eyes, because the taut, livewire feeling is causing his heart physical distress. “I – yeah. I think so.”

                Cas visibly swallows and steps back, putting a few feet between them. Dean immediately misses the warmth radiating off of him. He finally puts his hands back under the faucet and rinses the suds off of himself, breathing shallow.

                “I, uh, I should get going,” he says without wanting to. “I have work.”

                “Right. Okay.” Cas rinses his hands off too, and they share eye contact for a beat before Dean knows he really has to go.

                He waits in line with the stupid bottle of body wash while he has to listen to Cas help a _really_ pretty girl find a new lotion. She’s flirting with him, and Dean would say she’s pathetic if he hadn’t been doing the exact same thing for the past month.

                When he’s checked out, Dean waves at Cas, who’s now alone restocking a shelf, then turns and starts walking out, disappointment filling him up like helium.

                “Dean?” he hears from behind him, and his heart is pounding out of his chest. He turns around, and Cas is right in front of him.

                “Yeah?” he asks, soft.

                “I just wanted to tell you that, um, next week is my last week here.”

                And just like that, an unfamiliar sinking sensation hits the pit of Dean’s stomach. “Oh.”

                “Yeah. I just wanted you to know, so – so if you come by, you won’t be expecting me.”

                Dean nods slowly, unsure where to go from here. “Okay,” is all he can think to say.

                “Okay,” Cas echoes. “Um. It was really nice to meet you.”

                “Yeah. You too, Cas.” _Understatement_. “See you around, maybe.”

                “Yeah. See you around.”

                And then Dean turns around and walks out of the store – and Cas’s life, probably – for good. Just like that. With no fanfare at all.

                That’s all they get, apparently. They just get a polite, forced ‘ _see you around_ ’ to see them off. There’s no big reveal, there’s no declarations, there’s no airport moment.

                There’s nothing.

                ***

                Dean goes back to the store a week later, one last time.

                Ever since Dean told Sam about Cas, he’s been texting him inspirational quotes about mending a broken heart, and really, there’s only so much Dean can take.

                So he’s mostly doing this just to shut Sam up. His motives are not at all out of his own gain. None whatsoever.

                He’s told himself that if Cas is still there, it’s a sign, and he’ll just lay everything out on the line, hoping for the best. And if he’s not there, then, well, he’s not.

                He doesn’t have to look for long, though, to see Cas stocking a shelf with candles near the back of the store. So that’s where this day is going.

                Dean takes a moment to appreciate him, given that this may be the last time he ever sees him.

                “They’ve still got you working hard, huh?” he says, and Cas turns around. Dean’s sure he’s not imagining it this time – Cas looks wonderstruck.

                “Hello, Dean,” he says, sounding almost shy.

                “I wasn’t sure if you’d still be here,” Dean says, rubbing his neck while Cas puts the candle in his hands down neatly on the shelf.

                “Today is my last day, unfortunately,” Cas replies. He looks kind of down today, more worse for wear than he usually does. Dean knows the reason he would hope is behind it, but he can’t be sure, of course, until –

                “You smell like cherry blossoms,” he says, the thought just barreling out of his mouth.

                Cas sighs wearily. “A little boy thought it would be amusing to spray me with a fragrance mist 7200 times.”

                Dean chuckles. “Well, uh, you think you can help me find one last thing?”

                “Of course,” Cas says, brightening slightly.

                Dean presses his lips together, uncertainty washing through him for the last time. “Okay. Um, this one is – is kinda special.”

                Cas raises an eyebrow in consideration. “Oh?”

                “Yeah. So, I want to ask someone out. Like, on a date.”

                Cas’s face falls, drops to the floor and shatters like a candle. “Oh,” he says. And that seals it for Dean, that this isn’t one-sided. Cas is interested, too. He has to be – he wouldn’t have that look on his face at the mention of Dean going on a date if he wasn’t.

                “Well I was thinking of buying a candle,” Dean says, struggling to keep his voice even. “So when we have dinner together, or _if_ I should say, it can be like, romantic and stuff.”

                “Candles will do that.”

                “So, um, what scent should I get? I want you to pick.”

                Cas swallows visibly, and Dean watches his throat work around it. “Why?”

                “You’re just… a lot more knowledgeable about… candles and stuff.”

                Cas seems to attempt a smile, but it falls flat. “I like the Christmas scents. But you probably want something more, uh, spring-like, given that the holidays are over.”

                “A Christmas scent sounds good,” Dean agrees. “I’d like the reminder. This has been a pretty good holiday season for me.”

                “How so?” Cas asks, not even bothering to appear work-friendly, or even friendly in the first place, as he picks up candles absentmindedly and gives them a sniff.

                “Well, um, I met this person this year. This really amazing person, who’s completely out of my league, and who deserves way better than me.”

                Cas looks into Dean’s eyes then, and Dean sees little life in his blue ones, no lightning sparking them up. “No one deserves better than you, Dean.”

                Dean’s throat burns. He’s almost there.

                “My friend Charlie – she, uh, she made me go shopping with her this year. On Black Friday.”

                Cas nearly drops the candle he’s holding. It almost slides out of his grip before he carefully sets it down, puts the lid on, and turns to face Dean head-on, his lips parted.

                “Black Friday’s always been kind of a shitty day for me. Kitchen Aid mishap, along with a few others, you see.” Cas huffs, though his eyes never leave Dean’s. “But this year, it was probably up there with one of the best days of my life. Because I met this person, and… and everything changed.”

                “Dean…”

                “So, uh, Cas?”

                Cas gulps, and Dean nearly hears it – just as he’s sure Cas can hear his heartbeat, jackhammering against his ribcage.

                “Yeah?”

                “Would you be interested in having a candlelit dinner with me? I hear you like the Christmas scented ones.”

                Cas blinks slowly, and for the first time their gaze breaks. “God, Dean…”

                “What do you say?” he breathes, wrapping his fingers around Cas’s palm and pulling him toward him. Cas squeezes back as he moves forward willingly. He drops his head, and Dean catches him; their foreheads rest together.

                “ _Yes_. It’s been yes since the moment I met you.”

                Dean exhales heavily through his nose, and he feels Cas’s own breath on his lips – it’s warm, but it still makes Dean shiver.

                “Can I kiss you?” Cas asks.

                Dean feels another tremor rock through him. “You’re on the clock.”

                “What are they gonna do, fire me?”

                Dean chuckles, and the motion causes Cas’s lips to brush against his, and Dean can’t wait any longer. He inhales, smelling the unmistakable scent of cherry blossoms, and kisses him.

                They decide to go with a Peppermint candle for their first date.


End file.
